


Between the Panels

by keircatenation



Series: Earth-13 [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Supergirl (Comics), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce hasn't showed up as of chapter 2 but he's been mentioned enough, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 14:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11254536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keircatenation/pseuds/keircatenation
Summary: A collection of ficbits from my AU Earth-13 that contain scenes that don't necessarily fit into other my other stories in the universe.





	1. August, JL-3: Gotham

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Kara is 20 here, and Babs is 16.  
> JL-3 refers to my interior continuity; it's three years before the formation of the Justice League in this universe.

In the two and a half months since she kicked General Dru-Zod’s ass off Earth, Kara Zor-El hadn’t encountered another villain that challenged her physical abilities so much, but she  _ had _ run into problems that challenged her mental abilities. She was picking up on this whole superhero thing pretty quickly, she thought, but half of a degree in journalism from Metropolis U wasn’t the same thing as experience in criminology and forensics, and those were the skills she could do with right now.

She’d tracked these smugglers across the bay from Metropolis to Gotham, but all she’d found once she got to Dixon Docks was a series of empty warehouses, with only a few scraps to show she’d been aiming for the right place and was  _ just too slow _ .

Except -

There was a person in the rafters. Moving  _ very  _ quietly, but Kara had super-hearing, and she could hear their slow, measured footsteps, balanced forty feet above the concrete ground.

Kara paced around a bit more, trying to look like she was still looking at the empty shipping crates instead of tracking the person in the rafters.

After a few minutes of that, Kara gave up pretending that she was looking for anything anymore. She put her hands on her hips, sighed, and looked up at where she thought her watcher was crouched in the shadows. “I know you’re there,” she said. “If you’re not here to kill me, come down so we can talk.” She paused. “If you  _ are _ here to kill me, I’d appreciate it if you’d come back another night, thanks.”

There was a quiet snort, and then -  _ from behind her _ \- the sound of a wire unfurling, and by the time Kara turned around fully, her watcher was already straightening from their crouch, stowing what looked to be a grappling gun on their belt.

They approached Kara, pushing a black hood off their head to reveal pale skin, a black domino mask, and bright orange-red hair cut short to their chin. They wore a streamlined set of armor in black, with heavier gauntlets, boots, and a packed utility belt under their long, black cape.

Kara realized she was staring, and shot a smile at her watcher, going for friendly instead of embarrassed. “Well, I hope this means you  _ aren’t _ here, to kill me, uh….” she trailed off, hoping her watcher would fill in the blank.

“From what happened a few months ago, it would take more effort than it’s worth to kill you,” they said instead.

Which, uh, wasn’t the  _  most _ comforting of comments, but Kara would take it. She held her hand out to shake, putting on her Media Smile. “Hi, I’m Superwoman! Who are you?”

Her watcher looked at Kara’s outstretched hand for a moment, and Kara considered withdrawing it, but then her watcher stepped forward and took it.

“Nice to meet you,” they said, with a small smile.

Up close, Kara was struck by how  _ small _ they were. Kara had never been a short girl, and once puberty hit, she sprouted up like - well, probably like an alien who could photosynthesize energy from the sun. Her watcher was half a foot shorter than she was, and slimmer than she was as well. They weren’t skinny, by any means - Kara had a feeling that armor covered muscle instead of just skin and bones - but next to Kara, they seemed  _ tiny _ . Even if they really weren’t.

Kara realized she might have been staring a little, and she cleared her throat. “Uh, no name, then?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as off-kilter as she felt.

Her watcher tilted their head to the side, then said, “You can call me Agent B, I guess. It’s what Batman calls me, if he has to call me anything.”

“You work with Batman, then?” Kara asked. The watcher -  _ Agent B _ \- nodded.

The Batman: Gotham’s legendary protector, more urban legend than not at this point, even if he’d been active for at least a year longer than Kara herself. There was maybe one photo him worth anything to journalists, and that was taken by Gotham Gazette reporter Vicki Vale on her smartphone a moment after he saved her from several mobsters with guns. He was raising a hand to block the camera in it, scowling as if taking pictures was going to kill him.

Kill his aesthetic, maybe. It could be a religious thing, but other reports painted the same picture: gruff, silent, competent, very protective of victims, and utterly terrifying towards criminals.

Up until now, everyone said he worked along, though.

“How does that even  _ work _ ?” Kara asked, possibly a little ruder than she should have been.

Agent B just giggled, and shook their head. “It’s a lot of work. People aren’t even supposed to know about me, really. I actually shouldn’t even be talking to you - it’ll be extra reps when I get back after I finish patrol - but I’ve seen a lot about you, and I was curious.”

“Extra reps?” Kara asked, feeling like each word just created more questions. Agent B didn’t just look tiny next to Kara, they sounded  _ young _ as well. There was roundness to their cheeks. Maybe that was why Batman didn’t want them seen, to hide that he had enlisted a teenager.

“Training,” said Agent B. “Workouts, puzzles, martial arts.” They paused, looking up at Kara. “ _ He _ didn’t enlist  _ me _ , you know. He’d rather me forget about the whole thing.  _ I’m _ the one who made  _ him _ take me on and train me.”

Kara’s face heated up, although it probably wasn’t visible against her dark skin in the dim light of the warehouse. She scratched the back of her neck, feeling sheepish. “No one knows anything about him, let alone  _ you _ ,” she muttered. “I’m sure I’m not the only one who would assume he’d, I don’t know,  _ coerced _ you into -”

Agent B’s laughter was soft, but it rang loud in Kara’s ears, stopping her short. “You actually aren’t the first,” they said. “Black Canary - she’s active over in Star City, have you -?”

“I’ve met her,” Kara said.

“Good,” Agent B said. “Well, the first time we met, she  _ tore into _ Batman, almost took his head off, before I explained what was going on.”

“That’s, uh, a little violent?” Kara said, trying to match it up with the cool and confident metahuman she’d met. Sure, Black Canary was fierce in a fight, but she was so compassionate otherwise.

Agent B smiled. “They have a history, the two of them. They trained together at one point - I think it rubbed BC a little wrong, to see Batman training me.” They paused. “I think she jumped to the same conclusions you did, except - maybe worse, since she  _ knows _ how Batman learned to do what he does.”

That - was pretty discomforting once again, but whatever, it’s not like Kara wasn’t a stranger to unsettling, uh,  _ origin _ stories. Or whatever the media was calling it.

A panel on one of Agent B’s gauntlets beeped and started blinking red. Agent B sighed, glancing down at it. “Damn, I’d hoped he wouldn’t see us until later. I guess Agent A helped him.”

“Uh,” Kara said, wishing she felt a little more like Superwoman right now and less like the 20-year-old journalism student. First Agent B, now Agent  _ A _ ? For an antisocial urban legend, Batman seemed to have more help than  _ Kara _ did.

“Don’t worry about it,” Agent B was saying, looking down at their gauntlet, blinking panel flipped open. “Also, don’t worry about those smugglers you came here for, we can take care of the branch in Gotham, so you don’t have to come back here.”

“Uh,” Kara said again.

“It’ll be best if you stay out of Gotham from now on,” Agent B continued, typing on the  _ tiny holographic keyboard _ that  _ sprang out of her gauntlet _ . “It’s kind of a thing with Batman, anyways.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Kara said, just to change things up.

Agent B shot her a smile and flipped the panel on their gauntlet closed. “Good, you understand.”

Kara shook her head. “But, what if I  _ want _ to come back? To see you, if nothing else?”

Agent B paused, and maybe this time Kara had thrown  _ them _ for a loop. Then they dug a rectangular card out of their belt and a small pen, wrote something on it, and gave it to Kara.

The front had a bat outlined in grey on black, and there was a handwritten number on the back: a telephone number, from the formatting.

“My phone number,” Agent B explained. “The  _ stay out of Gotham _ thing really is a good idea, but it would be nice to talk more. The others are all, uh, a bit older than us. We can bond over our age, or something.”

“You, uh, you know how young I am?” Kara asked, fumbling with the card before stowing it in one of her hidden pockets.

Agent B shrugged. “Batman makes it a point to know everything about everyone, and I’m actually better at computers than him, so anything he finds out, I know, too.”

Okay, that was  _ frightening _ .

It must have shown on Kara’s face, because Agent B hastened to say, “We won’t tell anyone, don’t worry. Batman won’t, he knows the value of a secret identity. And I won’t either, of course. You do more good as Superwoman, don’t you think?”

Ominous, once again, but actually kind of reassuring in its implications. Like there would be someone - multiple someones - watching her, in case she messed up. Ready to help, maybe, but definitely ready to correct. For the twenty-year-old college student in Kara, it was like a weight had come off.

“Here’s hoping,” Kara said with a smile, and then turned and made her way out of Gotham.


	2. June, JL+5: Washington, DC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batwoman visits the Themysciran embassy to retrieve a criminal. It doesn't go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Greg Rucka's story "The Hiketeia," with some lines taken from the text (bolded where it happens). Content warnings: frank discussion of rape, sexual abuse, and murder, but nothing graphic.

Danielle Wellys: twenty-three years old, from Webster Groves, MO. Reserved, unassuming. A bit of a stutter. Personal assistant to Wonder Woman for the last five days. Also the murderer of four men in Gotham: Roy Braddock, Artie Mason, Steve Rittenhouse, and Peter Collins.

It was fairly easy to track her down to the Themysciran embassy in Washington, DC, with Batwoman’s own skill with technology combined with Omega’s digital empire. Omega was happy to provide blueprints of the building, along with everything he had put together on the schedule of the Amazons within. There weren’t many cameras inside the building - the Amazons tended towards the use of magic, even in Man’s World - but Omega’s information was thorough enough for him to recommend a strategy for Batwoman’s entrance, the extraction of the criminal, and a speedy exit. It didn’t matter that she was technically on foreign soil within the embassy; Danielle Wellys fled the scene of her crimes, and justice knew no geographic boundaries.

However -

In order for Danielle Wellys to be given shelter in the Themysciran Embassy, Wonder Woman had to approve the situation, and would therefore defend her. Maybe Diana knew what Wellys had done; maybe she didn’t and was giving her the benefit of the doubt as for why she’d need the protection of the Amazons. In either case, Batwoman could not just  _ extract _ Wellys from the building. Maybe Batman could have, once upon a time, but Batman hadn’t existed for more than five years now, and Babs doubted even Bruce could have gone through Wonder Woman without lethal force.

So she was trying something else.

Batwoman blended into the dark of the night sky as she glided down towards Wonder Woman’s balcony. She touched down on the railing, disengaged the glider in her cape, and landed in a crouch on the balcony with her cape falling dramatically around her. Even if there was no one but Diana to impress, habits of theatrical presentation were difficult to break.

Diana was dressed as Wonder Woman: the tiara, the belt, the armlets, the boots, the breastplate, the Golden Perfect.

Babs wondered if her friend had been expecting trouble; Batwoman wondered if she should be expecting a fight.

Wonder Woman opened the door to the balcony quietly as Batwoman straightened up. She glanced back at something inside her study, and then remained in the doorway, blocking Batwoman from entering.

So Danielle Wellys was almost certainly inside the room, and Wonder Woman knew that Batwoman was here for her.

That should make things easier.

“Batwoman. Good evening,” Wonder Woman said, voice low.

Batwoman nodded. “You know you’re harboring a fugitive, Ambassador?”

Wonder Woman glanced back into the study, gaze lingering on the hidden murderer inside as she said, “Themyscira holds to slightly different laws than man’s world, and Danielle Wellys is here under my protection.”

“Wellys murdered  _ four _ men in Gotham -  _ hunted _ them down - and she’s an American citizen, and there’s an arrest warrant for her,” Batwoman said, stepping closer to Wonder Woman. “The embassy might be Amazonian soil, but that does not excuse her for her crimes.”

Wonder Woman looked down at Batwoman, not scowling but still dark and resolute. “She and I have  _ hiketeia _ , and you must know that now holds more power than any threat you can bring to bear. She is my supplicant and I am her supplicated. She has debased herself in front of me, and I have accepted all responsibility for her, until she releases me from my vow.”

Batwoman could see Wellys through the glass, over Wonder Woman’s shoulder. She looked terrified, crouching behind an armchair as if it could hide her. She was dressed nicer than the last times Batwoman had seen her, but that wouldn’t be difficult, since the first time she’d been bloodied and standing over a dead man and then the second time she’d been falling off Kane Memorial Bridge into the dark waters of the bay.

There was usually a thrill to knowing that criminals were scared of her, that she could land between them and a victim, and they’d be shaking by the time she finished straightening up. It was a powerful feeling, and very convenient to her usual night-time activities.

But Wellys looked tiny and scared, and  _ young _ .

Appearances could be deceiving.

Batwoman returned her attention to Wonder Woman, still standing firm and resolute in the doorway. “You and I know that I cannot take her from you,” she said quietly. “But I will not leave without interviewing her and confirming her motive. I will not let a serial killer who will strike again remain under your protection.”

“That is not your decision to make,” Wonder Woman said, but she relented, moving backwards into the room. She turned to face Wellys, putting a hand out to calm the girl, and said, “She’s not here to harm you. She’s here to talk.” She glanced back at Batwoman, and continued: “If she attempts anything more, I will stop her.”

Despite the circumstances, Batwoman quirked a small smile at that, stepping into the room. Wonder Woman looked out past her again - at the bench on the sidewalk across the street, empty at this time of night - and then closed the balcony door behind them.

Wellys was on her feet, tense like she was about to run for the door. There was a wild look in her wide eyes, but she hadn’t fled yet.

Good.

Wonder Woman crossed to Wellys, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Please sit down, Danielle.”

“Do - do you believe her?” Wellys asked, looking up at Wonder Woman with beseeching eyes. “Do you think I tr-tricked you?”

“It doesn’t matter whether she believes or not,” Batwoman said harshly. “What matters is what you  _ have done _ .” She paused, considering the tears starting to fall down Wellys’s face. “And why.”

“Wh-why?” Wellys said, eyes wide not with fear but surprise.

Batwoman tilted her head. “Why,” she agreed. “Motive is important. A woman may kill a man, and it’s self-defense. Another woman may  _ plan out and execute _ the deaths of four men and it’s called murder.”

“ **It wasn’t** **_murder_ ** **!** ” Wellys yelled from behind Wonder Woman’s protective stance.  **“It was** **_justice_ ** **!** ”

“ **That** **_wasn’t for you to decide_ ** ,” Batwoman hissed from behind clenched teeth, glaring and clenching her fists.

Wonder Woman widened her stance, ready if Batwoman charged at her supplicant.

Batwoman shook her head and took a step back. She had to bring Wellys back to Gotham for justice, for her to answer for her crimes, but violence and fear were not the answers here. Hiketeia meant that, until Wellys released her, Wonder Woman was beholden to protect her. That meant that Batwoman had to figure out a way to convince Wellys to release Wonder Woman from her vow, and then come quietly back to Gotham.

With the way Wellys was glaring at her now, she had been closer to that back when she’d fallen off the Kane Memorial Bridge in Gotham.

“Tell me  _ why _ it was justice,” Batwoman said, choosing diplomacy in the face of not achieving her goal. “Tell me how  _ hunting down _ and killing four men was  _ justice _ .”

Because it wasn’t necessarily the  _ killing _ that Batwoman was angry about - it was the premeditation, how Wellys had staked out her four victims and then proceeded to corner them and kill them. Omega was angry about it all - the hunting  _ and _ the killing - in that tight, closed-off way that he got when he was  _ very _ angry but had no productive outlet to release it and so he bottled it up inside. Batwoman would have taken time to prod him into talking about it before leaving for DC (it wasn’t like Wellys was going anywhere when she could have  _ Wonder Woman’s _ protection), but Omega was still barely talking to her.

Killing the Joker in the middle of an increasingly unstable magical ritual that he’d started wasn’t exactly the same as hunting and killing four men, but Batwoman had still crossed the only line that Batman had ever set out for them.

As if killing the  _ Joker _ meant that she would start killing everyone, or maybe just stop chasing criminals down in the first place.

(There was a time when Bruce would have been  _ happy _ if Babs stopped being a vigilante.)

Maybe bringing Wellys back would finally get Bruce to crack, show him that Babs didn’t equate killing the Joker with justice - just a necessary act.

“They killed m-my  _ sister _ ,” Wellys said finally, a rebellious mutter as she dropped her eyes to the ground. A bit of remorse, perhaps? That would be nice, and would make Batwoman’s job easier.

As for Wellys’s motive - her sister was Melody Wellys: nineteen, or would have been, if she hadn’t died of a drug overdose in a seedy Gotham motel room three weeks ago. Had been in Gotham for several months, according to old ticket purchases. The GCPD detective investigating dismissed the case as an overdose, another tragedy in the hellpit of Gotham. Batwoman had only read a few scant lines about her on the train pulling into Union Station this morning.

The Bats couldn’t be everywhere, and Omega only attempted to see all.

“Braddock paid to bring her out to Gotham, she wanted to be an actress,” Wellys said. She turned her face up to Wonder Woman, eyes wide and beseeching. She  _ respected _ Wonder Woman, then. Didn’t want the ambassador to think she had been tricked or taken advantage of. “Braddock said he’d ta-take  _ care _ of Melody, then took her things to c-control her. Got her to  _ pose _ for pictures, then drugged her, a-and  _ filmed _ her.”

There was a change in Wonder Woman’s expression, and Batwoman could almost hear her thinking: _What if it had been Donna? What if it had been my_ _younger sister?_

Batwoman didn’t need to be psychic, because the questions in her mind were:  _ What if it had been Cass? What if it had been Steph? What if it had been Tam? What if it had been Thea? (It had been Thea.) _

Wellys didn’t need to finish telling her sister’s story (Batwoman had heard it before, had stopped it before, had been  _ too late _ before), but she did: “ **It doesn’t take long to control everything in your life. Where you sleep and when. What you eat and where.** When you fight, they hurt you, and th-then they drug you  _ more _ when th-that doesn’t stop you. And then they sell you, like an ah-appliance, and then you  _ die _ , and the cops make  _ jokes _ .”

There was a pause, where Wellys turned to face Batwoman, conviction burning in her eyes. “I just wanted to be like Wonder Woman, just and  _ true _ .  **They** **_murdered_ ** **my baby sister. The Erinyes said she had to be ah-avenged. They had to** **_answer_ ** **. That was the** **_law_ ** **.** ”

“ **It** **_was_ ** **the law… Three thousand years ago** ,” Wonder Woman finally said, soft but firm. Compassionate but just; the steel of the warrior over the warmth of her love.

(Once, when Batwoman had met Wonder Woman for the first time, she had held the Golden Perfect with her. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, feeling the love at the core of Diana and knowing that Diana could see her core as well.)

“It is no longer the law now,” Batwoman said, just as soft.

“What, like the cops were going to do anything about it?” Wellys yelled at her. “You’re the  _ Batwoman _ , you’re the biggest evidence there is that the cops don’t do their fucking jobs! How is what I did different from what  _ you _ do?”

Batwoman gave her a long, level look, letting the silence spread and suck away at Wellys’s anger. Wonder Woman could invite the truth with a well-laid silence; Batwoman invoked  _ logic _ with hers.

When Wellys looked more confused than angry, Batwoman said, “The difference between what you did, and what I do is, of course, that I  _ do not kill _ .” As far as anyone knows, besides her, and Bruce, and possibly Thea and Cass. She continued: “More important, I think: the difference between what you did, and what  _ Wonder Woman _ does.”

Wellys jerked, and opened her mouth as if to say something, but Batwoman cut her off with a wave of her hand.

“You said that you wanted to  _ be like Wonder Woman _ ,” Batwoman said lightly. “She’s rather a good model, isn’t she? Mythical: strong and imposing, but tempered by her compassion. But not too weak to  _ do what needs be done _ , right?” It was a rhetorical question, but she paused anyways, eyes fixed on Wellys. “She’s killed, and in public. But do you want to know where your actions  _ differ _ from hers?”

“Batwoman -” Wonder Woman said, but softly, and Batwoman continued right over her.

“ _ Premeditation _ ,” Batwoman hissed. “The  _ hunting _ of your victims. Wonder Woman kills only when necessary.  _ You could have stopped _ . You could have brought your evidence to me or mine, bothered your way until the commissioner handed over your sister’s case. But you chose to kill instead, trusting no one but yourself with your  _ vengeance _ .”

“And what would you do, run them down and lock them up, so they could just be set free to do the same thing to more and more girls?” Wellys demanded.

It was funny; it was usually Batwoman’s  _ rogues _ who tried to convince her of the uselessness of her work, the ones that couldn’t get over the fact that she beat them over and over. (Even Talia had given up on this line of reasoning, only rarely bringing it out for old time’s sakes.)

_ Funny _ . Right.

“How would we know when to stop?” Batwoman asked. She felt wide awake, fire running through her veins, head clear. In the back of her mind, she knew that she was furious, the bone-deep cold fury that demanded  _ payment _ for pain. The first time she’d felt this, it had been the first time she saw Two Face Harvey Dent in costume. The last time she’d felt this, it had ended with the Joker’s blood on her right gauntlet, Thea crying into her chestplate desperately after coming back to life when the Joker’s ritual imploded.

“What?” Wellys said.

“Let’s play out this hypothetical situation, where the Bats  _ kill _ ,” Batwoman said with a sharp smile. “ _ How _ . Would we  _ know _ . When to stop  _ killing _ ?”

Huh. She thought she’d dealt with the Joker’s death. Maybe Bruce wasn’t the only one still stuck on it.

Wonder Woman bowed her head, but didn’t try to say anything again.

Wellys shook her head, and then gestured with a hand. “When the victim is avenged, of course! When justice is  _ served _ !”

“And when there’s just another victim waiting? Or when the perpetrator is a victim, do you kill them then? How about when the victim you just killed for is a perpetrator, and you have to turn on them as well?” Batwoman stepped forward, her smile getting even sharper. It was a miracle Wonder Woman didn’t step in to block her progress towards Wellys; she must have more faith in Batwoman’s control than Batwoman did at the moment.

Wellys didn’t seem to share Wonder Woman’s faith; she took a step back towards the wall behind her for each step Batwoman took forward. Soon, she’d reach the wall and be cornered.

“What crimes deserve murder in retribution? Is it just killings? Are rapes not horrible enough, or do you suggest that rapists are raped in turn? An eye for an eye? Did our law codes really peak around 1750 BCE?”

“It was  _ fair _ , wasn’t it?” Wellys demanded, back against the wall and angrier for her desperation. “Pain for pain!”

“Pain for pain,” Batwoman repeated softly. She stopped her advance and turned to look at Wonder Woman. “ _ Pain for pain _ .”

Wonder Woman’s eyes were level, but still compassionate. How could  _ any _ person want to be like her, and  _ say that? _ Wonder Woman was justice, was truth, but was more than that: was the love and compassion to deal it out  _ fairly _ , and with wisdom. She was probably the best of the Justice League: oldest, wisest, with the most experience in balancing personal emotion and sympathy with the impersonality of justice.

“I cannot force you back to Gotham,” Batwoman said softly, eyes still on Wonder Woman as she spoke to Wellys. “Not when you are the ambassador’s supplicant and she is protecting you. But just remember - you’re  _ hers _ to deal with now.”

It wasn’t as threatening as it sounded. Wonder Woman killed with kindness far more often than with a blade.

It didn’t even feel  _ good _ , striding away towards the balcony door. Omega would be waiting for her to turn on her comm set and report that she had Wellys in custody, and wouldn’t be pleased when she said she had failed, even if she doubted Batman could have done better. But  _ what ifs _ wouldn’t stop Bruce from closing himself off further from Babs, as if every mistake since the Joker’s death was another tally in the “Why Batwoman Shouldn’t Be Trusted” column.

Ironic, considering that Batman had killed Ra’s al Ghul within a  _ month _ of beginning - or maybe that parallel would have counted  _ only _ if Batwoman had left the Joker there to die of his own arrogance, instead of  _ ensuring _ that he would.

Batwoman reached the balcony railing, drawing her grappling gun, when Wonder Woman caught her arm.

Except - it wasn’t the ambassador, it was  _ Diana _ holding her back.

“It’s not like you to give up,” Diana said softly.

Babs quirked a humorless smile, not looking at her. Diana had a knack for making people want to tell her the truth, even without binding them with the Golden Perfect. “I am  _ not _ about to start a fight with you for her. It would be  _ pointless _ , because we both know that you would win.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know that,” Diana replied.

Babs glanced over at her friend finally, eyes wide behind her white lenses. She clenched her jaw to keep her own desperation from showing on the visible part of her face, but she didn’t know how successful she was. Diana had a knack for knowing.

“You heard her,” she said finally. “I hoped to convince her to release you from her vow, to come with me freely. It was the only way this would work, with you two sharing  _ hiketeia _ . But - I know my limits. I am always  _ very aware _ of my limits. I have to be.” She paused, and took a shuddering breath. “And I  _ know _ that I cannot convince that woman that her  _ vengeance _ was not justice. You can, I hope. But not me.”

Maybe she could have, if she thought of the Joker’s death as justice. He deserved it, certainly, for all the people he’d killed over the years. Deaths repaid in full with his own, playing with forces he didn’t understand. (The magic, and Babs’s own wrath.)

But all she could think of was the red of the blood on her gauntlet, and the gurgle of blood in the Joker’s throat when she slashed her claws across it. (Perhaps this was the first time she’d used those retractable claws for the thing they’d been meant for in the Talon suits she’d adapted them from.) She could hear the dull thud of the Joker’s body hitting the ground -

And also the first gasp of air that Thea made after the ritual imploded and her soul was released back into her body.

Babs couldn’t regret killing the Joker, and Wellys couldn’t regret killing the four men involved with her sister’s death, because both of them saw the deaths of their victims not as  _ justice _ but as  _ necessary acts _ .

As if reading Babs’s mind - she couldn’t, not without touching bare skin - Diana said, “The Joker deserved his death, if that is what concerns you.”

Batwoman quirked her lips in another small, mirthless smile. “How well you know me.”

“You have been avoiding me since March. It was not difficult to draw the conclusion,” Diana said, tightening her grip on Batwoman’s arm as if she’d disappear if she let go. “No matter your part in it, it was his actions that led to it.”

“That is… Truthful,” Batwoman said carefully. “The Joker was a monster. Not because he was mentally unstable, but because he felt no remorse for his actions, and sought to cause pain.” She paused, but the truth came tumbling out: “I cannot regret his death. I cannot even regret the satisfaction I have, knowing that he will never kill again. But -” She stopped, the words to describe his blood on her gauntlet - the same one Diana held now - getting caught in her throat.

Diana waited in silence with her until she found her voice again.

“I never wanted to be a killer,” Babs said, softly, thinking of Bruce’s cold eyes on her night after night, even that first night, when she brought Thea to the Cave to be checked over by Alfred.

“And it must hurt more for people to believe that you  _ aren’t _ ,” Diana said, and Babs looked at her, feeling a little wild at the words. Diana’s face was open: eyes clear, brow smooth, mouth serious. “Batwoman may exist because of secrets, but this need not be one of them. I do not know anyone who would blame you for killing him finally.”

Babs laughed, sharp and surprisingly loud. She wondered if Wellys could hear her from inside. “I know someone,” she said bitterly. “And that’s the problem.”

Then she shook off Diana’s slackened grip, shot her grappling hook, and flew away into the night.


End file.
